Carving Legends Into Ash

A young girl stood in the shade of a tall tree. She didn't know what kind of tree it was, for to a little girl, a tree is a tree -and also a castle, and a cozy house, and Rapunzel's tower - and in her eyes all trees are created equal.1

As fortune would have it, the young girl had just been given a knife for her birthday by a rather wild aunt. Now the tree was a canvas. As surely as paint may cover white cloth, the young girl wanted to use her blade as a brush to leave her imagination in the wood.2

Sadly, the young girl had no talent for art, and the knife was a rough tool for her small hands. She sobbed, sitting beneath that tree, saddened by her own inability. Her father found her crying there and he took her in his arms and told her that soon enough she'd be bigger and stronger and she would be able to use the knife.3

So she pursued other ventures, mostly trying to teach herself to draw, but every day she checked to see if she was yet able to carve the tree. And in a few years, she was able, but alas she had never gained any artistic talent. She could barely draw a stick figure, and that simply wouldn't do.4

What she did know was her letters, and those letters formed words, and those words made sentences and those sentences became stories. So she began to carve, not images but poems. Normal stories were just so boring, she thought.5

She began: 6

Once upon a time,
there was a girl
with eyes of lime.7

It was simple, somewhat senseless, and all about the girl, for the young girl was self-centered, as little girls always are, and would be the heroine of her story.8

For years and years she wrote upon the tree, telling her story to nature and the world.9

April 19:10

11

The girl, she met a horse
The horse, he met a girl
She said good-day,
He said good-bye
and then he ran away.12

July 7:13

14

School drudged on this afternoon
The teacher's voice droned on
of math and science,
history and books,
but now I'll be home soon.15

December 12:16

17


I've met a boy with hair like gold.
Could this be love? I just don't know.18

But then, there was the fire. A match is something so seemingly innocent. Looking at it, who would imagine that a small mistake with such a thing could cause so much harm?19

Alas, it did, and even as far as it was, in the summer months the grass was dry and the fire spread from the house as far as the tree. The girl did not see her beloved tree destroyed, for the damage had already been done to her. The house collapsed, and she was burned, and her consciousness was lost.20

For days, then weeks, then months and over a year, the girl did not wake up. She stayed in the hospital, still like sleeping beauty, but her prince he did not come. Still, one day she did awaken, but she had changed, forgotten things. Not everything, but a lot of things. In her mind, the brightest image was one of a tree.21

She asked around, but the doctors didn't know what she was talking about, and her family was gone. Her mother died in the fire, her aunt from old age. Her father committed suicide, unable to cope with the guilt, and her sister ran away. Finally, an older nurse told her the only thing they knew - the location of the burned house, now built over once again.22

So it was that the young girl, now a beautiful young woman, returned to a home she did not remember, and which no longer exists. What now stood there was a residential apartment complex, cold concrete nothing like a home. However, in one lot, still empty, she found a pile of ash. It could have been anything, but she knew it wasn't. She kneeled down, casting her shadow over the mound, and ran her fingers through it, long cold. Then she felt the edge of steel, and quickly withdrew her hand. Her finger, having brushed against the metal, was bleeding. She stared at it, then looked down.23

Peeking from the pile of ashes was a knife, weathered and worn. It was no longer sharp enough to carve hard wood, but it could slice soft skin. As if possessed she took the knife and ran it through the ashes - forming letters, then words, then sentences, and a story.24

August 12:25

26


The girl cries
Memories lost
No happily ever after27

"What're you doing?"28

The girl turned to find a young man, not much older than she. He didn't have golden hair, nor lime-green eyes, but he was a man none-the-less. 29

"There used to be a tree here," she said.30

"Not any more."31

"It was all of me. My entire past."32

The boy looked at her and said -33

"A tree is a tree. Only you have your past."34

The boy couldn't have known, but that was no excuse. The girl cried, tears running down her face. The boy saw no other option than to hold her, so he did. He hugged her tightly and saw what she was writing. He used his foot to wipe it clear, and wrote instead - 35

August 12:36

The story isn't over
You're still alive.
you are not alone37

I didn't love her then. I was young and didn't know what it meant. No, I didn't love her until long after the wind had blown my message away, and she was gone forever. She died of lung cancer, theoretically the fire had kicked up asbestos fiber, which she had breathed in while she'd been trapped. The fire hadn't killed her then, but it had come back to get her in the end. 38

Everything I know of her past, I found in a basement darkroom that was uncovered when they started building over one of the last empty lots. They were kind enough to let me see it before they filled it in. I took every photo I could carry with me. Evidently, her father had taken pictures every week, archiving each new entry on the tree's surface.39

The first of the tale had been saved, and the last of it was etched permanently on my heart. She had never been alone, and even when carved into ash, her memories never once faded.40